Dawn Will Come
by AboveReality
Summary: 'Her eyes focused on Andraste, the way her robes were draped, how the warm light danced on the metal and casted some eerie shadows on her face. Exhaling- she allowed her lids to droop, escaping the unnerving gaze of the Maker's Bride.' Rating may go up. DAI Spoilers. Slight AU
1. Prologue

**My first ever DA fic. I've been a fan of the franchise ever since it came out, but never attempted a fanfic. Now that Inquisition's has come out, I feel the need to write about this amazing game.**

**This is going to follow a mage Trevelyan. Since I felt that the origin was somewhat whisked away along with the horror's a mage would experience during the rebellion, the conflicts of killing her own 'kind', the Trevelyan family who are pre-chantry and severe Andrastians, practically being declared holy and the weight of the world on ones shoulders. All those things combined does something to a person, which I sortof missed a bit in DA:I where the character was a strong-willed man/woman of nature. What if one wasn't strong-willed to begin with, and actually terrified and reluctant, but forced to go on, willingly or not.**

**I want to discover that during this fic. Some would consider it mary-sue, but when isn't something mary-sue? XD The perfect character has yet to be written and a mary-sue doesn't have to be a bad thing perse.**

**This story will definitely begin dark and a bit repetitive the first two chapters. After that, when the base is there, I can build my own world. It follows the DA:I storyline with a few changes of my own gently weaved into it. I hope you like it.**

**Constructive critiscm is always appreciated, not; THIS SUCKS, or other mean short reviews that can't help me grow in my writing. Don't like, don't read! :)**

**REMEMBER: English is not my mother-language! I will try to reduce the mistakes to a minimum, but I am only human. Now, onwards!**

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><p><span>Chapter 01: Prologue<span>

Hard, cold stone pressing against her cheeks. Wrists bound. Whispers.

These sensations grow until they woke her from her dark slumber. Shivering of cold and a probable fever she opened her eyes and moved to sit on her knees, which proved quite the task for her hands and feet were bound together and chained to the ground. Why was her left hand aching so much?

A door in front of her opened and soldiers came rushing in, forming a circle around her with drawn swords. She startled, her heart drumming against the inside of her ribcage, and the pain in her left hand suddenly flared up causing her to gasp. It burst into bright green flames, tendrils... whatever it was. It disappeared as sudden as it had come, but the pain didn't disappear with it, nor the whispers though her jailors didn't seem to be the source from it. Fear curled around in her stomach, demons?

The soldiers around her were tensed, the tips of theirs swords menacing in the faint orange light of the torches on the walls in this.. dungeon. She closed her eyes, trying to contain her fear.

_'What is happening? All I remember is the Conclave..'_

Two pair of footsteps walking towards her, made her look up again. One pair strong, powerful belonged to an equally powerful woman striding towards her with a look of accusation in her eyes. She wore plate mail and her build was that of a warrior. The other was slyer, keeping more to the shadows, her purple cowl hiding most of her facial features. An assassin?

The warrior woman stepped into her little circle of swords, in an instant those threatening blades were sheathed. The woman commanded them..

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now," the woman growled from behind her, her voice containing a thick accent. Circling her like a hawk searching for its prey; it was equally as menacing as the swords pointed at her moments ago. "The Conclave is destroyed," she continued. "Everyone who attended.. is _dead_. Except for you," the woman pointed at her.

"Except for me.. I.. what happened? That's horrible!" She stammered, tripping over her hoarse voice trying to contain her confused babbling.

_'Everyone is.. My family is-'_

The warrior woman grabbed her by her shackles and pulled up her left hand forcefully, which burst out in green flames again. She flinched and gritted her teeth not to cry out. She will not do that, she will not be weak.

"Explain _this_," the woman had hissed and dropped her hand.

"I," she began and tried to come up with an explanation why her hand glowed green. In all her years of magic she had never encountered this so she.. "I can't."

"What do you mean; you _can't_?!" the woman cried out. Her jawline tensing and her brown eyes enflamed as she looked down upon her. It made anger push away her fear and flare up in her blood.

"I don't know what that is! I can't explain it other than it hurts. Why am I he-!?"

Strong, iron clad hands clamped down on her shoulders forcefully and that menacing face was brought close to hers in a fit of rage. "You're lying!" The woman spat and wanted to pull back a fist to hurt her, but was pulled away by the other one clad in purple. They retreated momentarily in the shadows and whispered incoherently, before the one in purple broke away and stood before her. She was equally intimidating as the other one, but less of the 'in-your-face' type. It gave her room to think.

"What is your name?"

"Gwyneth.. Gwyneth Trevelyan," she muttered and looked down at her lap to her bound wrists. Just like that time in the Circle.. "I don't understand."

"Do you know what happened? How all of this began? How the Conclave was destroyed?"

Gwyn tried to make sense of her muddled thoughts and images came to mind. "I remember running. Spider-like _things_ were chasing me. Then I saw a woman."

"A woman?"

"I remember her reaching out to me. I tried to grasp her hand, but then.." Gwyn sighed. There was nothing more and she felt inexplicably drained. Her eyes travelled to her left hand.

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will bring her to the rift."

In an instant the warrior woman was kneeling in front of her, freeing her from her shackles but tied a long rope in her hands like the prisoner she apparently was. "What _did_ happen?" Gwyn asked as she stood on her wobbly legs. The woman stared into her eyes for a moment.

"It will be easier to show you. Come on."

Gwyn was forced to follow the woman who literally had her life in her hands in the form of a rope connected to bound wrists. All hope of escaping dissolved; the more they went up, the more soldiers there appeared to be. Gwyn knew that if she used magic to burn the robes and run, she would probably be cut down instantly. A demoralizing thought.

The freezing mountain wind blew through her thin layer of clothing as they went outside. There was no sun, just the grey ominous clouds between the mountains and.. Gwyn gasped in pain and kneeled.

A large rift was hovering in the sky, glowing an eerie green just as her hand. It crackled with lightening and fiery comets were hurling out of it. Even from this distance, Gwyn could see tendrils of the fade past the clouds.

"We call it 'The Breach'. It is a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It's not the only one, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

The pain finally dimmed a bit as her hand stopped glowing and Gwyn was left breathless. It was fiercer than last time. "An explosion can do _that_?! That's insane!"

"This one did," the woman said as she looked at Gwyn's hand. "As The Breach grows, so does your mark. It's killing you, but it may be the key to stopping this."

"You first wanted to punch me and _now _you want my help?"

"The Breach will not stop growing unless it swallows the whole world, with us in it. Everyone will die, either by the hand of demons or being hurled into the Fade. They are both cruel deaths."

Gwyn looked at the woman, inside those menacing eyes she could also see desperation. This is was gamble, but one willing to make. Even_ if _she was the cause of this shit. Gwyn couldn't say for herself, for she did not remember.

"I will help you. Whatever it takes."

There was a brief shimmer of relief in the woman's brown eyes before she pulled Gwyn up and pushed her in right direction towards camp. The menacing demeanour seemed to soften a bit.

There were not only soldiers walking around, but also civilians, refugees. They glared at her with so much anger and hate, that Gwyn casted her eyes down to her feet and allowed the woman to guide her. She did not want to witness it. Suddenly, something hard and with force behind it, hit her on the cheek that made her stammer back and fall on the ground.

Her cheek tingled with a sharp and burning sensation. She reached up and felt something warm and wet coat her fingers. Blood. Gwyn felt her anger rise and her magic flare in the process that she desperately tried to contain_. 'No! Not here, not now. Keep calm, recite.'_

"Modest in temper, bold in deed."

There was some shouting before her and a grunt of someone being punched. Gwyn kept reciting her family's motto as she slowly got on her feet, feeling her blood cool. The cold air stinging her cheek. Her guardian clamped her hand on her left shoulder and urged her to move along.

"The people had judged you guilty. They need it for they've lost our Most Holy, Divine Justinia. The Conclave was her idea in a last effort to unite the Mages and Templars."

They moved in silenced for a moment. Gwyn often flinched when her mark started to glow green again and spread across her hand when The Breach in the sky thundered and tear the sky even more open. The woman, who introduced herself as Cassandra, had unbound her the moment there were outside the camp and praying eyes. But despite the small freedom, Gwyn was still a prisoner.

At one point they encountered demons. Not unfamiliar with them during the rebellion in the Circle of Ostwick where poor sods resorted to blood magic, Gwyn dealt with them swiftly with the aid of Cassandra's excellent swordsmanship. As soon as it was over, she found herself staring down the tip of a blade once more.

"Drop your weapon," Cassandra growled and gestured to the staff in her hands.

"We just fought demons, how am I supposed to defend myself if I am denied a weapon? Also it's not like I am completely harmless without it," Gwyn spat back and took a step towards the warrior. Who did not back down. She was a mage, she did not _need_ a staff to do harm but it certainly helped to amplify her abilities. Which could be useful for they had no idea what to encounter next. What if there were more demons?

Sighing Cassandra sheathed her sword. "Fine. But I will be watching you, if you any of your magic on my men.." she let the threat hover in the air between them. Gwyn nodded.

"I won't hurt them unless they hurt me first. That man back there with the rock caught me by surprise, next time I will be prepared." She gripped her staff tightly. "I will also remind you that I came willingly. If I wanted to do you harm, I would already have done so."

The pair continued to fight their way through demonic creatures and the like. On the way to the forward camp, Gwyn met a dwarf named Varric and an elf named Solas, who seemed to have been watching over her ever since she came walking out of the Fade. Varric seemed to have some history with Cassandra, but judging by the lady's glares and Varric's mischievous glint in his eyes; not a very good one.

"So, _are _you innocent?" Varric asked as they neared the camp.

"What?" Gwyn breathed heavily. They have been climbing up an enormous staircase for some time now. She cursed her lack of stamina. Her mind was also too absorbed about what happened moments ago. Solas had grasped her left hand and lifted it towards a Fade Rift. It closed when it reacted with her Mark. The strange feeling; as if something pulled at her very soul through her hand, was still _very_ fresh in her memories and occupied her thoughts. Since that worked, they were now going to have a try at The Breach.

One way or another, she was to face trial. Presumably ending in death.

"Are you innocent of killing the Conclave?"

"I.. don't remember what happened, but I hope not," she muttered and tried to regain control of her breathing. Finally the staircase ended, her sore legs almost screamed in delight.

Varric tsked and shook his head. His breathing wasn't even accelerated, nor were Solas' or Cassandra's. Gwyn felt terribly out of shape. "That'll get you every time. Should've spun a story."

"That's what _you_ would have done," Cassandra glared at Varric as they walked upon another flight of stairs, but this time a lot less longer than the first.

"Of course! It's more believe-able and less prone to result in premature execution."

Gwyn tried to ignore that comment as they walked passed the gates of the camp, but as they neared Leliana and a sour-faced priest she found it hard to banish the word 'execution' out of her mind. Where they really going to do that?

"Ah. There they are," the man drawled and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You made it. Chancellor Roderick this is-"

"Leliana I am well aware who she is. As the Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution."

"_Order me?_" Cassandra snapped. "You are a glorified clerk, a bureaucrat."

"And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!"

"We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor. As you well know," Leliana said. Effectively interrupting the glaring contest between Roderick and Cassandra.

"But Divine Justinia is dead! We must elect a successor and hear her opinion on the matter."

"The Breach seems a more pressing issue to me than deciding who is going to be the next Divine," Gwyn murmured and looked up at the sky. It seemed even more ominous now than before.

Roderick's face reddened and he yelled, thrusting his finger in her direction. "_YOU_ brought this on us the first place. Call a retreat Seeker, our position here is hopeless."

"No, I will not. We can stop this before it's too late with the help of the prisoner. Her mark closes Fade Rifts, we may as well try it with The Breach," Cassandra stepped forward, gently pushing Gwyn backward so that she was out centre of Roderick's attention. "There will be casualties, there is no way around that. But we need to get to the Temple it's the quickest route-"

"But not the safest. Our forces can be used as a distraction while we go through the mountains," Leliana pointed west to the snow covered pass. Even more climbing, Gwyn dreaded.

"Listen to me," Chancellor Roderick murmured, almost begging them. "Abandon this now before it's too late and we all die."

"If we abandon this we are certain that death will be upon us. What do you say Trevelyan? You will be the one closing The Breach and since we can't decide on our own- How do you think we should proceed?"

"You want _me_ to decide?" Gwyn frowned and flinched when her hand started burn again. The Breach kept spreading and the way she kept feeling feverish wasn't a very good sign she supposed. What should she do? Charge with the rest or head up the mountains pass? She risked death either way and will probably die afterwards. What did it matter?

"I think I won't survive long enough for you trial anyway, judging how this looks. Whatever happens, we do it now. All or nothing. We charge with the soldiers."

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><p><em>'Prepare the sacrifice.'<em>

_'Someone, help me!'_

_'What's going on here?!'_

_'Help me!'_

With a start Gwyn woke.

She felt drained, tired and her attempts to get some more sleep were in vain despite her fatigue. Images of green fire, blinding pain, demons and her fighting for her life burned in mind. After that all she could remember was dark and blissful sleep. What happened? Deciding that lying in bed and pondering about it would not bring her answers, Gwyn slowly said up. Struggling against a cruel headache.

"Oh!"

A young, elven woman had entered. A small box she held fell out of her arms and connected hard with the floor. Gwyn cringed at the sound.

"Y-you're awake! I-I didn't know! I swear!" The girl stammered, her big eyes filled with fright.

"Don't worry about it. I only-" Gwyn's face twisted with horror when the elven girl fell on her knees and bowed deeply for her.

"I beg you for forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant," the words leaving the girl's trembling lips. Gwyneth threw her legs over the edge of the bed, the soft fabric stroking her bare legs as she did so. Her bare toes touched fur as she set them on the floor.

"Where am I? I'm surprised that they have not yet thrown me into the dungeons," Gwyneth softly whispered and looked around. The house where she was in was small, but cosy. All kinds of hunting trophies adorned the wall and several types of fur covered the wooden floor.

"You are back in Haven, my lady," the elf spoke, daring to give Gwyn a glance before staring at the floor again. "They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing just like the Mark on your hand."

Gwyn held up her left hand. There was a faint white line across the entirety of her palm and even some part of her wrist. Here and there green tendrils escaped the fine line. It was still hurting, but not as bad as before. The whispers in her head had also reduced in their intensity, now they were a mere fickle of the mind.

"It's all everyone has talked about these past three days," the elven girl murmured. Her eyes staring at Gwyn's hand full of reverence. It made her uneasy.

"Three days," Gwyneth repeated and glanced once more at her marked hand before clenching it to a fist and lowering it to her lap. Her eyes focused on her toes. "So I guess the trial will happen? Now that I have awoken?"

"I-I don't know anything about that," the girl murmured and stood up. Her demeanour was suddenly skittish. "I'm certain Lady Cassandra would want to know that you have wakened. She said; 'At once!'"

Slowly Gwyn stood up, her muscles still sore from the unused quantity of exertion three days back. A nightgown that she did not recall having covered her features. The brim tickled her knees. "Where will I find her?"

The elven girl was now slowly backing away towards the door. "The Lady is in the Chantry, with the lord Chancellor. 'At once!' she said," and with that the girl hastily exited the house, leaving Gwyn alone with her stuff.

Gwyneth used her time to wash and dress in a new set of pants, a belt for her potions, a pair of black sturdy boots, a tight dark brown shirt and a warm tail coat that was accented with grey fur. It offered movement and protection, Gwyn could feel the magic of the wards radiating from it.

The servant had also brought her a small looking-glass. Did she dare it? Taking a sigh to muster up her courage, Gwyneth looked at herself in the mirror. The sight was pure horror.

Her mahogany-coloured hair, always tamed and neat, now had resemblances to a birds nest. It stuck up in almost every direction possible. Her worn blue eyes took in the sight with dread. She took the hairbrush from the box and began with her self-inflicted torture session

During it, Gwyneth noticed the cut on her right cheekbone from the stone thrown at her. It was larger than it had felt and looked crusty. The cut was a real eyesore, around it her normally pale, slightly freckled skin was bruised blue and green. After quite some time of grooming the birds nest, she finally pulled her long wavy hair in a messy bun and shook her fringe out of her sleep-rimmed eyes. It was still messy, but at least more presentable. Then, after a few deep breaths, she stepped outside.  
><span><br>There was no way she could be left wandering around Haven, looking where the heck the Chantry was. For the way towards it was lined with rows and rows of people. All gasping, whispering and standing on their toes to look pass the soldiers to catch a glimpse of her.

"That's her!" They whispered. "The Herald of Andraste! She closed The Breach!"

Gwyneth was never one for religion. The Trevelyan family were devoted Andrastians, but she herself could not bring herself to follow their beliefs. As a child she obediently went with her brothers and parents to each sermon and sing the Chant of Light, among other ones. Even if there was _some_ form of belief from her part, that was quickly crushed when her magic came to surface and she was brought to the Circle.

Despite her lack of belief, when she reached Haven's own Chantry she finally felt a sense of calm wash over her when she closed those heavy doors behind her. Sealing herself away from those prying and curious eyes. That sense of calm was quickly disturbed when the sound of Cassandra's voice and that of Chancellor Roderick yelling to each other reached her eyes.

"Maker.. not this again," Gwyn groaned and rubbed her temples hoping to ease away her headache as she approached the door and entered without knocking. She wanted to get this over with, with or without manners.

"Ah! Chain her! I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial!" Roderick growled. The Templars at the doorposts took a step towards Gwyneth, who clenched her fists.

"Disregard that. Leave us," Cassandra snapped. Who surprisingly bowed at her and left. She held more power than Gwyneth had realized.

"You are walking a dangerous line, Seeker," Roderick seethed.

"The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it, even if I have to overrule the Chantry."

"That's why I am summoned? Because you need my help? _Again_?" Gwyneth straightened herself and frowned at the Seeker. She had heard of the order, the right-hand of the Divine. They were a strong bunch. "I did everything I could to close the Breach. It nearly killed me."

"Yet you lived. A convenient result, insofar you are concerned," the Chancellor hissed. His eyes were boring themselves deep into her own.

"Have a care Chancellor, The Breach is hardly the only threat we face."

"First, we need to know who was behind the explosion of Conclave. It must be someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died in the explosion, or have allies who yet live. We need to get to the bottom of this," Leliana said and stepped forward from her place in the shadows. She threw and accusing glance at Roderick.

He back away, placing a hand on his chest in disbelief. "_I_ am a _suspect_? While the very source of this mess is standing right here next to us?"

"I am _really_ tired of you accusing me. How many times do I have to say that I am innocent? Until the Spirits themselves hear me?" Gwyn hollered, her voice raising with every word. "I had family attending at the Conclave! Do you really believe that I wanted them _dead_?!"

"Trevelyan!"

Cassandra's voice was sharp and cut through her just like that. Gwyneth blinked, her eyes felt moist and her hands were clenched into tight fists. Bright red fire covered them, but it did not hurt. The Chancellor had backed away, his eyes fearful but his jaw tense in defiance. Sighing, Gwyn forced her magic back and the fire disappeared. "You know nothing Chancellor," she hissed between her teeth and with that she turned on her heels and stomped out of the room.

Gwyneth marched to the furthest and darkest corner of the Chantry, blocking out every voice and finally allowed her tears to roll across her skin. She lost a brother and a few cousins in that explosion. How could they speak of it like she was too blame? She would never do that, never. So much carnage was an animal's doing. A demon. But not her.

"Lady Trevelyan?" A soft voice called for her.

Quickly composing herself, Gwyn wiped away the remnants of her tears and stepped from around the column where she had been hiding out of sight. Leliana stood there, alone and her hands folded behind her back. Her gaze was sharp, but softer than Cassandra's, it eased her emotions.

"Are you alright?"

At that Gwyn merely shrugged. "How can one be alright, if she discovered that a part of her family is torn from existence and she is to blame for it? How can one be alright if one moment she is declared a traitor and the next The Herald of Andraste?" She took a shivering breath and shook her head. "This is madness."

"Madness is doing nothing whilst the threat is still there, hovering in the sky."

Cassandra walked towards them, holding a heavy book in her arms. "Madness is letting people die, whilst _we_ can do something about it."

"But how? Glare at it in the hope it disappears?"

Leliana chuckled, a soft sound that lightened the mood just a bit. "Unfortunately it doesn't work that way. Would make the world a lot easier though."

"What we can do, is breathe live in the Inquisition once more and serve it."

"The what?"

Cassandra smiled secretively at her and gestured for them to follow. So Gwyn did, back to the same room. Only to find Roderick missing.

"He stormed off, angry," Leliana briefly explained. It conjured a smirk on Gwyneth's lips.

"This is a writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act in desperate times. I declared the Inquisition reborn, Roderick wasn't too pleased with that, but we will close The Breach, with or without his help," Cassandra explained and placed the book that she held in her hands on the table, across the map of Orlais.

"Your Mark is still a key component though. It is the only thing able to close rifts and possible The Breach when it's provided with more power. We have no chantry support, no leader and no numbers, but we must act now," Leliana sighed and looked at Gwyn. Her eyes filled with hope.

"Will you stand with us? Help us put an end to this chaos?" Cassandra asked, the same hope shimmering in her own eyes.

Gwyneth looked at the book. A giant eye stared right at her, the flames of the Sunburst Throne surrounding it like a fiery halo. Her vision shifted from the book to her left hand and flexed it. The Mark remained the same, a fine line with green tendrils oozing out of it. She looked up to see Leliana and Cassandra awaiting her answer.

"I will help you. With everything I've got."

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><p><strong>Like it?<br>Review please!  
><strong>


	2. Who am I?

**Perhaps you have noticed: but this time I took more liberty into slowly seeping my own words in the story. This chapter is still heavily based on the current events in the game. I just want to say that not every piece of dialogue will be ripped from the game, but some things will. Simply because I don't want to change it because it's sufficient and awesomely written. I almost feel like violating if I change it too much XD**

**Now that rant is over. I hope you enjoy the second chapter. Third chapter will hopefully come out in a week, but who knows. It's quite the head-breaker and I have changed it many times and took time to sort my own thoughts of how I want to process the story. It isn't remotely finished, but getting there. I just take my time because I want to deliver the best.**

**Remember: English is not my first language. Grammar mistakes can occur, sorry about that. I try to minimize the damage as little as possible.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><span>Chapter 02: Who am I?<span>

"Ah! Look who's back from the dead. Again."

Gwyneth had spent the entire day exploring the camp, getting to know people and their professions. Despite the cold, she found Haven beautiful. The way the sunrays made snow glitter like diamonds and how soft it looked on the mountains around them had her fascinated for a moment. She hadn't got the time nor interest in watching her surroundings when she had been at the Conclave, now she had the time in the world to take a look around what the village Haven really was.

Right now Gwyneth was staring down a bald man with a dark stubbly unkempt beard who was supposedly the alchemist of the camp. She wasn't _that_ tall herself, about 5'8, but he was even shorter than her. The top of his head would barely graze her chin if they would stand next to each other. Though he hadn't his height as an advantage, his grumpy –and perhaps slightly rude- demeanour made up for it.

"Have we.. met before? I don't recall meeting you," She slowly replied, choosing her words carefully. For all she knew, he could be a mage as well and could set her on fire just like that. Or freeze her. She wasn't keen on testing it.

The alchemist shrugged and raised a bushy eyebrow. "I'd be surprised if you did. You weren't particularly coherent. Someone had to patch you up after you staggered out of Makers-knows-where, so you're welcome," he said with his gruff voice. A scowl on the man's features.

"I'm sorry, I- Thank you," Gwyneth stammered and nodded in gratitude, slightly taken back by his direct and cranky nature. Immediately the man's eyes softened, so did the scowl.

"Yeah, well. You can pay me back by fixing the world," he huffed and turned to his desk where a large and heavy looking tome was displayed.

Gwyneth took that as her cue to leave. The freezing wind made her cheeks stung a bit, but it was refreshing than the strangely smelling house of alchemist Adan. She allowed her feet to carry her away, the snow crunching beneath her boots. It had been a day since she had woken, and now she could safely say that most people stopped gawking at her like she was the Andraste herself. This reverence unsettled her, it drew unwanted attention and she had learned from her life in the Circle that drawing attention was a bad thing. It made her twitchy.

"There you are!"

Gwyn turned around to see Cassandra walking up to her. Whilst she was huddled in her coat, trying to preserve every speck of heat, Cassandra walked tall and proud. Seemingly unfazed by the frisk air that tried to seep in your clothes and bones.

"I was looking for you," she began and gestured for Gwyneth to follow. "I want you to meet the advisors, the true backbone of the Inquisition."

"Aside from you? I thought you were the leader.." Gwyn murmured as they walked up the steps of the Chantry and inside its wind and cold-shielding walls. The warmth inside made her relax a bit.

"No, I am a soldier, but one has to start somewhere," Cassandra said and looked at Gwyneth who flexed her left hand. "Does it hurt you?" They stopped walking.

Gwyn glanced from her left hand to the Seeker. It ached constantly, and the Mark looked even more horrendous in the candle light. "Less than before, but ever since I got this I don't feel like.. me. And it didn't do what it was supposed to; closing The Breach."

"You at least made it stop growing and bought us time to find a solution. Perhaps the second attempt might succeed, provided the Mark has more power. Come, they are waiting for us."

Cassandra led her back to the same backroom as before. On the large oaken table a series of maps were displayed that hadn't caught Gwyn's eyes before. Behind the table were three people waiting for them. Cassandra joined Gwyn's side after closing the door and gestured to the one in the middle.

"May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces."

The man in question offered a small smile and nodded in greeting. "Such as they are. We would have lost many soldiers in the valley if not for you Lady Trevelyan. Thank you for your assistance." The man spoke, his voice deep and warm but polite and professional. He was tall, about 6'2, and broad. Whether or not that was because of his armour and the mane over his shoulders Gwyneth couldn't tell.

His hair was neatly combed, golden in colour like his eyes, but he had stubbles adorning his lower face that oddly suited him. A fine white line abruptly put an end to his upper lip on the right. Overall, he was a handsome man but straight and military in posture. His left hand rested on the pommel of his sheathed sword.. a Templar habit. Gwyn felt herself tense a bit.

This tensing up seemed to fail Cassandra's gaze as she introduced her to Lady Josephine Montilyet, the ambassador and Chief Diplomat of the Inquisition. Josephine curtsied while expertly holding a scribe with a candle on the top, and a tiny delicate brush used for writing. "I have heard much about you. A pleasure to meet you at last."

Her choice of words and the way she pronounced them betrayed her heritage and upbringing. As if no one could guess it from the choice of her clothes; a dark blue satin dress with fabric shimmering like gold coating her arms, the edges of her dress and tights. Her shoes were probably matching with the blue. Around her neck was a heavy and expensive looking golden necklace, around her wrists equally expensive looking bracelets. Her raven hair was curly and tied in a neatly braided bun in the back of her neck. A few whispers of that dark hair framed her bronze face. It was.. a lot to frame a short and slim woman, but somehow seemed to suit her.

Leliana stepped forward and scraped her throat. She wore the same hooded purple tunic like yesterday. Only know did Gwyneth notice the mail across the length of it. It looked strong and seemed flexible to move in, but did not seem to lose its protection the way the mail was layered and fastened to the fabric. Almost like dragon scales.

"We have already met, if you have forgotten; my name is Leliana. I fulfil the role of-"

"She is our spymaster," Cassandra hastily explained, cutting her off. Leliana gave the Seeker a small and rueful smile, but nodded. Gwyneth had that gnawing feeling her guts that Leliana wasn't only 'mastering her spies'.

"Tactfully put Cassandra."

"Impressive titles you all bear," Gwyn spoke her voice slow and considerate as her eyes glanced at each and every one of the advisors. She felt like a small fish in a giant sea, trying to swim for her life or otherwise she will be swallowed whole by the big ones. "I am pleased to meet you all." She curtsied.

"I mentioned that you Mark needs more power to close The Breach for good," Cassandra explained.

"Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help," Leliana exclaimed and took a step forward. Cullen scowled, his left hand tightening on the pommel.

"I still disagree. The Templars could serve just as well." Cassandra sighed and placed her hands on the table, leaning forward to emphasize.

"We _need_ that power Commander. Enough magic poured into that Mark-"

"Would destroy us all," Cullen snapped and swiped a hand dismissively into the air. "Templars could supress The Breach, weaken it so-"

"Pure speculation."

Cullen glared at Leliana who held her chin up high and defiant. "I _was_ a Templar. I know what they are capable of."

"Won't I get to say a matter in this? I am going to be the one closing The Breach after all and I am not looking forward in working with either one of them," Gwyn growled and flinched when a sharp pain travelled up her left hand.

"You don't trust your fellow mages?"

After giving Leliana a look, Gwyneth allowed her gaze to drop to the map of Ferelden. Staring at a pawn in the shape of an Eagle. "I don't trust mages nor Templars, not after the carnage at Ostwick Circle. Excuse me if I don't pick a side."

For a moment it remained silent. Then Josephine scraped her throat. "Right as of this moment, neither group will speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition, and you," she pointed with her brush as Gwyn, "specifically."

"They are certainly not waiting for the grass to grow it seems," she mused and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Shouldn't they argue about the next Divine or something?" Cullen growled.

"Some are calling you the Herald of Andraste, that frightens the Chantry," Lady Josephine continued, ignoring Cullen. "The remaining clerics have declared is blasphemy and us heretics for harbouring you."

"I figured as much.."

Cassandra frowned. "Chancellor Roderick's doing. No doubt."

"Ugh, I hate that man," Leliana grunted and rubbed her forehead.

"It certainly limits our options. Approaching the mages or Templars is currently out of the question," Josephine murmured and scribbled something down on the parchment.

"I have heard that term; The Herald of Andraste. But how am I it? I have done nothing really note-worthy except stopping The Breach from growing. People hated me," Gwyn muttered. Her right hand reached up and touched the cut on her cheek.

"They have heard that you walked out of the Fade with a woman behind you, and combine that with your actions in the valley-" Cassandra began and allowed her words to explain themselves.

"The point is; everyone talking about it. About you," Leliana whispered.

"That is quite the title, isn't it?" Cullen asked, a small smirk tucking at the corners of his lips as if she was slightly amused by the reverence. "How do you feel about that?" His eyebrows lowered and his gaze was now fully focused on her.

Gwyneth shifted her weight from one foot to another, meeting his gaze despite her discomfort. Everything about this man screamed 'Templar!' at her. How long had he been with the Order before abandoning it and joining the Inquisition? Had he actually abandoned it or was he kicked out? So many questions crossed her mind in a single fleeting moment that she had to remind herself to answer the question. When she blinked, she could see that the smirk on his lips had faltered a bit and his gaze had turned calculating.

"I don't like it. I am not the Herald, nor will I ever be. It's unnerving."

"Well it seems that Chantry has already decided that for you," Cullen replied in some sort of a mocking tone, and laughed. Gwyn had the feeling he wasn't on good terms with the Chantry.

"People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some; you are that sign," Leliana explained.

"And to others, you are symbol to everything that has gone wrong," Josephine sighed. Gwyn felt a spike of anger in her heart.

"They aren't concerned for The Breach? The real threat?"

"That is not true. They do know that The Breach is the threat. They just don't believe that _we_ can stop it."

"The Chantry is telling everyone we will make it worse."

Gwyneth realized that Cullen and Josephine focused on the word 'we' and took a long breath through her nose. "And it seems that it is up to us to make them realize that. No pressure.. no pressure at all."

"Well," Leliana drawled. "There is something you can do about it. A Chantry cleric named Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is situated in the Hinterlands and know those involved far better than I. Her assistance could prove to be invaluable."

"A Chantry cleric wants to speak to me? It almost sounds like a trap to me," Gwyn murmured and looked at the Ferelden map. The Hinterlands wasn't that far from here. A small week travel.

"Of that we are not sure. But I am coming with you, you are not going to be alone out there," Cassandra spoke and placed a gauntleted hand on Gwyn's shoulders in attempt to be a reassurance. It worked somewhat, Gwyn couldn't help but to smile a bit.

"I don't know if it's a trap, but scouts have already been sent ahead to assess the risk and make first contact with her. She attending to the wounded in an area named the Crossroads not far from Redcliff's farms."

"If you venture there, look for other opportunities to bolster our forces, resources and expand the Inquisition's influence," Cullen said. Gwyn raised an eyebrow.

"Such as?"

"Food, minerals for forging, willing soldiers, even horses or bronto's. We have a particular great shortage of cavalier; that can be a very decisive factor during a battle," he explained. His free right hand gestured as he summoned up the possible supplies they could encounter at the Hinterlands.

"We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley. And you are better suited than anyone to recruit them," Josephine added and hastily scribbled down some notes. Her bracelets softly jingled at her movements.

"In the meantime, we also have to look at other options. I won't leave this all to the Herald," Cassandra said decisively. The advisors agreed in unison.

"Are there also mages and Templars fighting there?" Gwyneth asked and looked to Leliana, who shrugged. "I am not sure yet, but keep in mind that their battles are fought across all of Thedas."

"I see.." Gwyneth felt her heart sink into her stomach. She would have to fight mages and Templars. She hated to pick a side and rather not fight at all than one of them or both. She clenched her fists. Why? Why start this whole mess? Is it truly worth it? She took a deep breath to strengthen her composure and looked at the advisors.

"Well, I am glad to have met all of you and for your advice. I guess that I should start preparing my journey. Good day."

Gwyneth curtsied at them one final time, like how mother taught her too when she was at a young age. Back straight, knees bending lightly and her head dipping just a bit to greet, but keep her dignity in the process. Do not look eager, be composed. Then she turned on her heels and left the room with her jaw clenched tight.

"Herald, are you alright?"

Gwyneth mindless actions of packing her bag were interrupted by soft accented voice. She stood and straightened her back, groaning at the ache of being bent over for a long period of time. "Lady Cassandra, I must ask you not to call me that. Like I said earlier; I am not the Herald and prefer to be called by my name."

Cassandra Penthagast closed the door of the hut where Gwyneth resided in. It was also the hut she had woken. It seemed that the righteous owner was 'honoured' to have her living her and allowed her to stay until she deemed it unnecessary. His daughter had provided her that nightgown.

"People see you as the Herald. Denying them that hope will only bring more resistance toward our efforts," the warrior explained. "But I will indulge in your request.. Lady Trevelyan," she smiled. Gwyn had a hard time smiling back and sighed, tying up her bag.

"Are you alright?" Cassandra repeated her question and ventured into the room. Her dark brown eyes taking everything in. Gwyneth tried to leave the home unspoiled until she found a place to stay of her own. This was, after all, property of someone else and she already felt an intruder. Gwyn would hate to break something that wasn't hers.

"I'm fine, ah!"

Gwyneth gasped when her left hand suddenly started to ache and clenched it to a tight fist. It helped somewhat with the pain. Josephine merely stood there and watched.

"You are not looking forward to this."

It wasn't a question, but a statement. A fact. Gwyn sighed and turned to the Nevarran who was just radiating an air of confidence and strength, something she envied.

"No. I'm not."

Gwyn walked past her and took the staff that she had used when fighting against the demons four days back. When she stopped The Breach from growing. She had tried to track down the mage where it belonged to, but only discovered that he had perished in the fight and the staff was left without an owner.

Holding the staff, Gwyneth sat down on her bed and investigated the crystal nestled in the very top of the staff. It was a special type of crystal, clear and shimmering like ice, which every staff contained but Gwyneth unfortunately forgot the name off. It conducted a mage's magic like no other gem without restrictions if it functioned properly. That was why Gwyn was now checking the crystal, to see if it was broken or needed replacement. She wanted to be prepared for anything.

Cassandra kept standing there in the middle of the room, watching her but said nothing. Eventually Gwyn sighed.

"I am going to kill mages and Templars. And for what?" Anger seeped into her voice, her blue eyes kept focused on the crystal that she had taken out of the staff and held in her right hand. It was cool to the touch. "Because they don't _think_ about their actions, because they just _do_ stuff in the name of the greater good and what that means for themselves, but forgetting the ones they hurt in the process." The crystal started to glow a faint red.

Cassandra took a few steps towards her, her stance neutral. "And we are there to make them stop fighting and make them see reason."

"What if they don't want to see reason?"

Cassandra frowned and her eyes contained a feisty glimmer. "They will. They must. And we _will _make that happen."

The Hinterlands was a beautiful place to be, more than Gwyneth would have thought. The rocks were red, hinting at castle Redcliff's name, but the trees were all kinds of colours of red and green. The grass was a lush deep green, the flowers were overflowing and the sun shone kindly upon their faces.

Unfortunately as they ventured more and more towards the Crossroads, the less beautiful the scenery became. Scorched patches of grass and blackened trees became a regular occurrence. Soon burned down house, reduced to ash and even a body here and there.

"Whoa.." Gwyn softly muttered and pulled on the reins of her horse in order to stop. His nostrils flared when he smelled the scent of burnt flesh, but did not bold and compliantly stopped in his stride.

After performing some duties for horse master Dennet and his family, he had agreed to give them the horses they needed for the Inquisition and agreed to travel towards Haven after the farmers arrived to reclaim their land once more, now free of beasts and demons. Gwyneth sat upon a gorgeous chestnut gelding, who was kind to her and her poor attempts of riding.

One could only have so much experience if they lived in a tower their whole life. Fortunately for Gwyn, Cassandra and Blackwall, their newly acquired Warden member, provided some pointers to her. Cassandra also had an extra safety rope connected to her own white mare in case things got heated.

"I am guessing the mages and Templars went through this area," Blackwall's rough voice said from behind her. Gwyn turned to look at the Warden who made his black steed stop next to hers. Varric clung on to the back of the saddle, for he too was unused to riding but refused to have his own horse. The dwarf grunted and shifted a bit on the horse's back, who seemed unfazed.

"That must mean we are getting close to the Crossroads," Gwyneth murmured and absently stroked her gelding's black manes.

"I suggest we press on. The sooner we get there the better," Cassandra said and nudged her mare's sides, who snorted and walked forward. Gwyn's gelding followed and so did Blackwall's steed. The Seeker and the Warden seemed to be efficient at riding, unfazed when the horses had a moment of tension at a blazing fire and encouraged them to move on. The horses complied and slowly began to relax, a signal of thrust.

"Watch out!"

Varric's shout of warning was too late as a fireball was hurled at them and connected to the ground ride before their horses' feet. Gwyneth's gelding whinnied and reared, making the safety rope that Cassandra held snap. Gwyn felt her stomach sink and leaned forward, grasping the gelding's neck in order not to fall off.

When the gelding's front hooves touched the ground he bolted. His head held up high and his nostrils flaring. If it was controlled it was probably the best feeling in the world, the way the wind blew through her hair and the horse's manes, the way his powerful body moved below her. Propelling them forward, faster with each stride. But this wasn't controlled, this was panic and fear gripped Gwyn's heart instead of serenity.

They ran into the forest. Branches whipped against her face as Gwyn held on to his manes for her dear life, her feet slipping out of the stirrups. Suddenly the horse jumped straight into a clear and reared, throwing Gwyneth off. Shouts, screams and spell incantations reached her ears. With adrenaline surging in her blood she jumped up, watching how her horse ran across the battlefield. Trampling mage and Templar in its wake and disappeared.

She had no time to think, no time to validate what just happened or acknowledge the soreness in her back from her fall. Immediately she was in the heat of the battle between mages and Templars like when she ran from the Circle and right now Gwyn did what she did back then; survive.

Her magic flew across the battlefield and what after a time what felt like ages her companions stormed out of the forest, swords raised and their horses controlled who were not used to the sounds of battle. Varric let himself slip from Blackwall's steed and chose the higher ground, raining arrows down upon their foes. Within minutes the battle was over and Gwyn watched her final fireball hit a mage in the head, frying his brain.

Gwyn's breathing was laboured and she leaned heavily on her staff. Around them was a carnage of bloody, fried and frozen bodies with here and there one of Varric's arrows poking out. Cassandra rode towards her, the flank of her white mare turned red.

"Herald! Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Gwyneth huffed and glared up to the Seeker, her blue eyes blazing. "I _told you_ I hate horses!"

"Lady Cassandra! Herald!"

A man ran towards them, his armour clearly that of the Inquisition. His face was flushed and sweaty, his breathing was laboured. Nonetheless he stopped, slammed his right fist across his heart and bowed.

"You've been a true sending. The horse was an excellent distraction that gave us the upper hand. Thanks to you we could save most of the refugees," he spoke reverently and glanced at Gwyneth. His green eyes shimmering. Gwyn's mouth opened and closed, not sure what to say.

"Well done, recruit. Make the area secure with the rest of you squadron, we don't want any stragglers who can alert the rest," Cassandra order and dismounted. The recruit saluted and ran off. Cassandra gave the reins of her mare to a stable boy who had ran towards them to take their horses. Together with the mare of Cassandra and Blackwall's steed he walked off past Crossroads defences.

The Crossroads was a make-shift camp around a farmhouse on a hill where Gwyn suspected was their church and nursery. She spotted several sister walking around, their white and soft red garments weren't hard to miss.

As the group walked through camp, refugees and soldiers whispered when they walked passed. Most recruits even saluted at them. In the distance between all the tents and in a small secluded part, Gwyn spotted their horses.. along with her chestnut gelding who happily munched on a piece of hay. Bastard.

"Shh, there are mages here who can help you. Lie still."

At the farm house, there were several bed in the sunlight, each of them occupied with wounded soldiers. A dark-skinned elderly woman was bent over a soldier and gently pressed him down on the matrass, a mage stood behind her a bit fidgety and unsure. The soldier struggled a little bit, but that was futile because of the gaping wound in his side.

"Don't let them touch me Mother, their magic is-" he frightfully gasped. The Reverend Mother hushed the poor man and placed a comforting hand on his sweaty forehead.

"Their magic is turned to noble purposes. It is no more dangerous than your blade," she whispered. The soldier wanted to resist once more but she shook her head and placed her hand on one of his. "Hush dear boy. Allow their magic to ease your suffering."

Then, the Mother stood up and made way for the mage who kneeled next to the soldier and let his hands hover above the gaping wound. A soft blue light emanated from them, and the soldier sighed and closed his eyes as he felt the pain disappear and his wounds heal.

"Mother Giselle?" Gwyneth asked hesitantly and walked towards the dark-skinned Mother, who turned and met her gaze with kind and warm eyes.

"I am her," she answered and walked towards her. Cassandra nodded in respect as the Mother approached them. "And you must be the one who they call The Herald of Andraste." Gwyn had to control her face from scrunching up as those words left the Mother's lips.

'_I am their hope, their beacon,_' she reminded herself.

"You have asked the Inquisition to see me?"

Mother Giselle smiled and walked towards a more secluded area, away from too many eyes and ears. Gwyneth and her party could only follow.

"I know of the Chantry's denouncement," the Mother said as they walked together. "And I know those behind it." They stopped and Giselle's expression turned more serious. "I won't lie to you. Some of them are hoping to increase their chances to be the new Divine, and some are simply terrified. A lot of good people are senselessly taking from us."

Gwyneth knew that she spoke about the Conclave and sighed, "What happened at the Conclave was horrible." Mother Giselle nodded.

"Fear makes us desperate, but hopefully not beyond reason. Go to them; convince the remaining clerics that you are no reason to be feared. They have heard only frightful tales of you, give them something else to believe."

"You think I must appeal to them?"

The look on her face must have been one of shock, for the one on Mother Giselle's turned softer and she smiled gently. "If I thought you would be incapable I wouldn't have asked you to. Let me put it this way; you needn't to convince them. You just need some of them to.. doubt."

Giselle sighed and looked towards the red mountains looming over them. The sun kindly touching her aged face. "I will go to Haven and give Leliana the names of those that can be persuaded to our cause. It won't be much, but I will help in every way I can and give you a voice that calls out to others and rally them beneath your banner. You will be the one people are looking at in this dire time, whether you save or destroy us.. that is up to you-"

With those words the Mother nodded and walked away. Leaving Gwyneth with a mind filled with confusion, doubt and even more weight on her shoulders. She was about to bring them glory or make them fall in the attempt. Her blue eyes shifted from the Mother's retreating back to her left and marked hand. The Mark pulsed in the rhythm of her heart. No pressure right?

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><p><strong>Like it?<br>****Please review!**


	3. Who are you?

**I decided to cut the end short. For otherwise it would be an enormous chapter, so it might be a bit abruptly. This was a hard one to chew on. I scrapped many things, changed a lot and some things perhaps not for the better. Either way, I hope you will enjoy it. This might be confusing but everything will come together later on. Trust me.**

**Remember; English is not my first language! Grammar mistakes can occur!**

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><p><span>Chapter 03: Who are you?<span>

"_Its gates forever shut.  
>Heaven has been filled with silence,<br>I knew then,  
>And cross'd my heart with shame.<br>—Andraste 1:11_"

Those words, engraved on a solid piece of marble and lined with gold were fastened on the stone pedestal where a golden statue in Andraste's likeness stood in all her glory. Only vaguely lit by the numerous candles surrounding it. She stood tall, head held high and unseeing eyes staring into the darkness beyond the candle light, but her arms outstretched invitingly. Welcoming everything what lurked there in the black void.

The Chantry was silent and empty. Outside the howling wind roared, forcing everyone to remain in to their households. All but the ones with troubled minds and restless hearts.

In one of the furthest pews, where the light of the candles barely grazed a surface, a woman sat. Her hair a reddish brown and her eyes as blue as the clear skies; once shimmering with joy and life, now troubled and tired.

Gwyneth had her chin resting on the back of the pew in front of her, her arms forming a soft cushion. Her eyes focused on Andraste, the way her robes were draped, how the warm light danced on the metal and casted some eerie shadows on her face. Her dark eyes almost seemed to shimmer with life. Exhaling- Gwyn allowed her lids to droop, escaping the unnerving gaze of the Maker's Bride upon her.

This was one of the many nights she had spent time here in the pew, never sleeping until the sun painted the sky in purples and pinks. It was not because she converted, needed to pray or anything, but because this was _the_ quietest place where she would not freeze to death. It also happened that she liked the way the fire danced on top of their wax altars. How it fluttered like a bird with the slightest of breezes, how it burned hot and strong when it was allowed to grow, to consume.

Her dreams were filled horror, death and whispers -that now more often than not plagued her wake mind. Her magic was depleting faster each time they were forced into battle, forcing Gwyn to rely more and more on her companions. After closing rifts she felt exhausted, almost unable to walk. It frustrated her; this _dysfunctioning_. This feeling of weakness, of being depraved of her strength. How could she turn to the mages and Templars in this state?

Gwyn sat there, in a dark corner of the chantry with her mind thrown in a chaotic mess hopeless to sort out. Her mark aching her day in day out, sometimes to the point of being unbearable. She flexed it during those moments and cursed it, cursed _her_! That woman in gold, for bestowing this upon her. She cared less if it was true or not.

"Lady Trevelyan?"

Startled, Gwyneth sat up straight like a rod and wiped her cheeks clean from moist with the back of her hand. Her eyes shot towards a figure coming from one of the doors on the left of the statue. White robes seemed to absorb in the candlelight. It was a bright splotch in all this shadow. Quickly Gwyn rose on her feet, embarrassed for someone to discover her in this dark hour and in this state of mind.

"Mother Giselle-" Gwyn stammered, her words tumbling over her lips like a waterfall. Her feet walked her back towards the enormous heavy oaken Chantry doors. "I- I'm sorry for troubling you, forgive me."

Gwyneth had her eyes on the floor and heard the Mother walking towards her, her soft feet now incredibly loud and resonating against the Chantry walls, though she was sure that it was only just her sensitive hearing due to lack of background noise and the absence of light. The Mother's eerie dark shadow reached up to her toes when she stopped moving.

"Are you alright? You don't look well," her smooth voice murmured. Was it filled with concern or suspicion? She had turned her back and already reached out for the door.

"I- I'm fine, and _very_ sorry for bothering you. Good night-"

"Wait."

The very tips of her fingers grazed the rough wooden door but instead of grasping the iron casted doorknocker and throwing open the door to her freedom, she retracted her shaking hand and let it rest at her side. Her voice had resonated through the Chantry, commanding and stern like a mother would tell her children to stop. Despite the way it was said, the word did its job; she paused in her action.

Footsteps approached Gwyn. With each step she felt herself tense more, expecting in a morbid twist of her mind Templars to come out. Reverend Mothers were never alone, never. Eventually the footsteps stopped approaching and for a moment it was quiet, the only thing she heard was the howling wind and her own heavy breathing.

Slowly Gwyn turned, her eyes meeting those of Mother Giselle who stood about two meters away from her. Her stance was straight, proud and confident, her face almost unidentifiable due to the shadows, but she could still see the shimmering of her dark eyes and the deep wrinkles in her kind face. Quickly she casted her eyes down. Her own body cowered, slightly bent over as if trying to protect itself. The whispers in her head intensified.

"What happened?"

Those two simple words and her gentle voice were almost too much. She needed someone to listen to her, instead of herself being the constant listener. The constant problem solver, but never fixing her own mess. Her own head.

Gwyn clenched her jaws, she forced everything down and swallowed. Swallowed down her pain, the devils in her head, her complaints, her weakness. She was _not_ weak. She could do it.

"Nothing. Good night, Mother Gisele."

The sentence rolled from her lips quicker than she thought and in a more foreign voice than her own. Before she knew it herself, her body had turned and escaped the Chantry like a legion of demons were hot on her tail. Leaving Giselle behind who sighed and shook her head, the corners of her mouth turned down with sadness.

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><p>Gwyneth grunted and cursed as her hands delved into the mountain of bones. Trying to get a hold on something other than skulls laughing at her. Sweat pearled on her forehead and her cheeks were flushed as she tried to calm her laboured breathing as she clawed her way up the mountain with her heart pounding a fast rhythm in her ears. Below her in the darkness there were clicks and screeches of the many-eyed spiders chasing her, sometimes whispering. Fear seeped into bones, chilling her and spurring her on at the same time.<p>

Above her was safety and the Light. A woman reached down to her, herself being the embodiment of the Light. Gwyn gulped down air in her burning lungs and reached up, the tips of their fingers almost touching. She had to grasp her hand, she had too! The screeching became louder and louder in her ears, the whispers intensified.

When the tips of her fingers were about to brush that of the woman, the whispers overcame her senses and blinded her. Then something strong and powerful grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her back, back into that tunnel of darkness. She screamed.

She startled when she connected with something hard and almost choked on her breath. Her eyes flew open and quickly looked around.

Gwyneth wasn't in a dark tunnel, nor climbing up a mountain of bones, she was on the floor in her own home in Haven shivering like a newly born foal. Her body was so drenched with sweat that her nightdress clung to her body like a second skin when she crawled upon her feet with buckling knees. Lightning softly crackled in the tense air around her, uncontrolled, fidgety and making the hairs on her body stand on end.

Gulping down air Gwyn looked around bewildered, unsure of her surroundings and jumped when something knocked on her door. She instantly clenched her wrist and exhaled when the lightening threatened to charge up and come forth in a burst in her start. She forced her magic down but not with ease and tried to calm down her erratic heartbeat.

"Uh.." a voice called out hesitantly. "Lady Trevelyan? You awake?" It was Varric.

Taking a moment to compose herself and even out her voice, Gwyneth replied slowly. Calculating every intonation of every word that rolled off her lips. "Yes, I am Varric. What is it?" Slowly she felt the fidgety magic leave her, talking relaxed her. Talking was good. It made her breathe.

"The Seeker wants to speak to you. Soon as possible she said, she looked quite impatient."

Gwyn huffed and stroked wet sticky strands of hair out of her face and walked to the bucket of clean water a servant had put there last night before everyone retired. Always, every night, one would replace the water. It contained enough clean and fresh water to wash herself completely and her hair. Right now she would make use of every single drop of it.

"Tell Cassandra I'm getting ready." There was a grunt from the other side of the door.

"Will do. She's waiting for you at the training grounds."

After Gwyneth had washed herself and donned herself in her traveling clothes and pulled her wet hair in its usual bun. She tried to presentable, but knew the dark circles under her eyes were hard to ignore.

Munching on an apple to still the gnaw of Hunger, she made her way down through Haven towards the frozen lake. On her way people greeted her, addressing her as 'Herald' and 'Your Worship'. Now she merely nodded in recognition instead of pulling up her nose. She was getting used to the title-calling, a bad thing in her honest opinion. One should not be so familiar with reverence.

Outside the gates, Cassandra was already waiting for her. Gwyn noted she was in her full-plate, which was not _that_ of an unusual sight, but the sword on her back was. Were they going to move out? Why didn't she know about it?

"Cassandra," Gwyneth noted her and nodded in a manner of greeting after she threw the remnants of her apple in the snow. The Seeker nodded back, a small smile on her lips that was quickly replaced with a serious frown.

"Herald, I am glad you could make it."

"You wanted to see me?" Gwyn raised her eyebrow in question.

Cassandra nodded. "Indeed I do. Come."

They walked closer to the training grounds, where the recruits were clashed into endless battles with each other. Sweating, swords grinding again swords and sometimes the dull blow of a shield. A lieutenant was giving pointers, sometimes shouting and sometimes pulling a pair out of their fight to show them a technique that they needed to master. Commander Cullen came out of a tent and took one of the lieutenants aside, discussing a technique or a new strategy of attack or defence. Gwyneth felt her stomach knot tightly and suddenly she wished she hadn't eaten that apple.

"These are our soldiers. All volunteers from the neighbouring villages or pilgrims," Cassandra explained and gestured to them. "Each of them dedicated to our cause, fighting until they drop. Improving.."

Gwyn's gaze shifted from the recruits up to Cassandra who stood beside her. There was an unwelcome clench in her guts. "What are you trying to say?"

The piercing brown eyes of the Lady Seeker met her own. They were sharp, calculating and filled with years and years of life-experience. Her eyes reminded Gwyn with those of a Hawk; always watching, always noticing.

"I have heard that you almost collapse after a battle.."

Gwyn felt her face fall and her mood turn sour. She tore her eyes from the seeker and glared at the training recruits. "Blackwall must have told you." A venomous edge laced onto her voice.

Cassandra shifted beside her, her stance becoming more rigid and dominant. "Blackwall, Solas and Varric expressed their concerns over you. Since I wasn't there the last times you went on an excursion I wanted to hear your side of the story-"

"There is no 'side of the story' from me. I'm fine," Gwyn snapped. She felt the air around her turn static, but there was no magic. Not even a spark. It was harrowing.

"Solas said that you threw his aid in the wind; he suggested that you rest more, gain more sleep and gain your strength," Cassandra continued boldly. "You are not doing that, are you?"

"I am getting enough-"

"That is not what I am told, nor _see_." The Seekers eyes focused on Gwyn's pale complexion after scanning her body over.

Gwyneth sighed, her shoulders feeling heavier than before and her heart felt empty. The will to fight seeped out of her like a vampire would suck blood from a person's neck. The icy wind seeped through her warm cloak and chilled her to the very bone, it carried the whispers.

"I- " she began and turned her back to the training recruits and walked towards the edge of the frozen lake. Remembering the last time she ice-skated was when she was little.. barely 7 years old and with her older brothers. It was a day before she was taken to the Circle.

"I'm fine- no- I _will_ be fine Cassandra. I promise I will improve, don't worry. I will be _better_," Gwyn said with clenched fists of determination. Behind her Cassandra nodded, but her gaze never faltered.

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><p>"Watch out for his shield, do not solely focus on the blade! He can knock you over, keep him at range! Watch your feet!"<p>

Grunting and sweating, Gwyn was fighting with everything she got. Parrying a man's blows with her staff and dodging his swipes and thrusts of his shields. On the side-line the Commander was giving her pointers and encouraged her and his lieutenant to really go at each other. Despite her being uncomfortable at first, she would be fighting with one of her own after all, his encouragement and the feistiness of her opponent really let her to loosen up a bit.

After her promise to herself and Cassandra a week back, Gwyneth had decided to get more familiar into defending herself from enemies when they were up close. Up until now she had been lucky, but one day a soldier could evade the warriors of her group and try to coax her into melee combat. She wanted to be prepared for that. Thankfully, Cullen was happy to help.

A particular strong shield bash made Gwyneth stumble back but before the lieutenant could swipe her feet from underneath her like he had done before she took a step back, instantly regaining her posture and deflected his sword. In one movement she brought up the bladed end of her staff and pointed it at the man's throat. He had nowhere to go.

"Well done, Herald," the lieutenant praised. Despite the cold, sweat dripped down the side of his head and into the collar of his neck. His adam's apple almost grazed the tip of her blade when he swallowed. One push and then it would all be over. The man would gurgle and suffocated in a puddle of his own blood, turning the snow a deep red. Then a smile tucked both of their lips.

Smirking to each other, she pulled back her staff and he sheathed his blade. She accepted his outstretched hand shaking it in mutual respect towards each other. "Well done, lieutenant. I thank you for your time." The man merely smiled.

"This pleasure and honour is all mine. Lady Herald, Commander," he said and bowed towards her before saluting his commander and marched off to re-join the other recruits. Making sure they did not stop practicing their technique.

"A devout man he is," Gwyneth murmured and watched how the lieutenant took a new recruit aside and showed him the proper way to set down his feet, despite his own fatigue. Gwyn swallowed and took a deep breath, easing it to stop heaving and return to normal. To bolster up her resources she was taking the occasional Lyrium draught when waking or needed. If a mage rested enough it wasn't necessary, but since her dreams were still the home of nightmares.. a little help could hurt right?

"Indeed he is," Commander Cullen softly agreed, with pride clearly evident in his voice. She could the corner of his lips slight curl up as he spoke and a strange look must have been on her voice for the Commander scraped his throat and chuckled light-heartedly. It was a beautiful sound that not seem to fit with his 'I-am-the-leader-of-the-Inquisition's-forces' persona. It surprised Gwyn, more pleasantly than she would have liked to admit and fastened her staff behind her back, giving her nervous hands something to do.

"The Lieutenant came from a humble family, who were pig-farmers. His family was caught up between a fight of a mage and several Templars. In an act of self-defence he managed to cut down a Templar with just a hayfork," Cullen told her. His amber eyes focusing on the Lieutenant who now laughed and took a drink from a waterskin. "Despite his bravery, his family did not make it. So in the heat of battle, he took the fallen Templar's sword and ran. We found him, more dead than alive, but he was driven. Driven to end this chaos, driven to avenge but more so; driven to teach."

The Commander turned towards her, his eyes gazing into her own. In the pale light of a winter sun, Gwyn felt the hairs in the back of her neck stand on end by his gaze and features. She did not know if it was pleasant or unnerving. Her stomach clenched.

"He was one of the first group of soldiers I trained for the Inquisition, picking it up like a natural. Now, barely a month later; look at him. Training others," he said and gestured to the Lieutenant in the distance, making her eyes wander for him. Gwyn found him again; seeing him deeply involved with another recruit who seemed to be struggling with his sword. Her blue eyes returned to those of the Commander, who was watching her closely.

"Why are you telling me this?" She asked, sensing that there was a lesson to be learned.

The Commander looked at her for a moment, then he gestured her to follow him. They walked passed the tents that sheltered the training equipment from the elements and stopped at the edge of the cliff. Below them was the frozen lake, not far, but surely a meter or three. The manes on his shoulders gently moved in the cold mountain wind.

"He understood his talent and embraced it. First he was scared of the phenomena 'sword' for it was the thing that killed his family. Now he has learned to control it and the fear subsided," the Commander said. His answer agitated Gwyn.

"You still haven't answered my-"

"Mages need to hone their abilities, their concentration, in order to cast their spells correctly am I right?" The Commander continued, his voice took a harder edge when he overruled her but toned down when she had stopped talking. Gwyn tried not to feel chastised for apparently speaking out of turn, but she did and her cheeks burned. What was it with him and his talent to make her feel so conflicted?

"Magic is meant to serve man, and not to rule over him," she summarized the chant, _the rule_ of the phenomena called Magic. It was imprinted in her head from the moment she first stepped foot inside the Circle.

"I noticed that you did not use a flicker of your magic whenever you are at Haven. You do not even train-"

"I do train! I am learning to heal wounds with Solas, it's more difficult than I thought but I am doing quite well- why are you chuckling? This is your lecture."

Gwyneth bristled when the Commander simply _laughed_ at her. Not even discreetly but in her face. She felt the hot flicker of anger in her veins and narrowed her eyes into a death-glare. The Commander stopped chuckling, but the devilish smirk was still on his face. It suited him mighty fine and Gwyn felt her anger vanishing and the death-glare subsided. Though she wouldn't let him go that easily and still gave the Commander 'a look'.

"I am not lecturing you, I am trying to teach you," Cullen said, his eyes locked on hers. Sighing Gwyn gave him a small smile of her own, she had to ease up a bit and stop judging this man. He had done nothing wrong to her, yet.

'_But what of his early Templar days? Perhaps he has done the same as the Templars back at Ostwick- Who knows? You certainly don't._'

'_No! He doesn't seem to be such a man. Silence.'_

"I- thank you Commander," Gwyn stammered and locked away her conflicting thoughts. "But I am aware of my capabilities and what I need to approve." A sudden idea came to her. "What if I help your men train on how to defend against mages? We don't have any yet aside from a dozen stragglers, including Solas and me."

Cullen looked at her, his face pensive and thoughtful. The Commander stayed quiet for a long time and gazed at the frozen lake below them. He seemed to battle his thoughts and sensing there wasn't an answer coming from him yet Gwyneth scraped her throat.

"I am sorry for suggesting it and taking up your precious time Commander. Let me get back to my duties."

Feeling like the greatest fool in the history of Thedas Gwyneth turned on her heels and wanted to walk away to forget this awkwardness, when she was halted by the Commander's stiff voice. He had his back turned to her, but his posture was rigid with his hands folded behind his back.

"I will consider it. You will hear from me, Herald."

Pressing her lips together she nodded stiffly although he did not see it and walked away, passed the tents and the training recruits. Their talk had only been about training, on how to improve oneself and acknowledging your short-comings. So why did it hurt when he addressed her so stiffly; like they had never talked at all.

Gwyneth shook her head that was about to suffer with an upcoming vicious headache.

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